


Photograph

by guiltyaschanged



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Absent Parents, Angst, Angst party of Dewey, Childhood Memories, Coping, Dad Donald, Death, Depressed Dewey, Dewey Duck Needs a Hug, Ducktales AU, Everyone Needs A Hug, Family, Family Drama, Family Feels, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Memories, Running Away, Sad, Secrets, duck family - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:55:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26762425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guiltyaschanged/pseuds/guiltyaschanged
Summary: Huey and Louie don't make it out of Castle McDuck alive. Dewey runs away, overcome by his own guilt. Della returns to an empty home, finding out all of her boys are gone.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 58





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This story is kind of an AU for a much darker version of the series to take place after different events occur during "The Secret(s) of Castle McDuck!" 
> 
> It'll be mainly Dewey focused, and is planned to only have 3 chapters for now. Who knows, I might add more in the future. I will try my best to finish this as fast as I can. :)
> 
> Side note, the whole basis for this story (which was originally just going to be a one-shot) was the song "Photograph" by Ringo Starr. I recommend you give it a listen since it's beautiful. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy the story --

“You kept a secret about Mom. That is not okay.”

Louie’s words felt like a punch to the gut. Maybe it was true that Dewey was only sorry because he got caught. But he’d also wanted to protect his brothers. They still didn’t know if their Mom was a bad person or not. 

And look at them now! Huey was angry and Louie was heartbroken. This isn’t what Dewey had wanted to happen. All of this over the secrets of Della’s disappearance. The mystery had already caused so much pain, yet Dewey still yearned to solve it.

A realization suddenly slapped Dewey across the face. He remembered Webby’s words to him earlier that day. 

_ “I’m trying to protect my brothers from finding out something that could upset them,” Dewey had insisted.  _

_ “And keeping an earth-shattering secret from them that could destroy your brotherhood wouldn’t upset them?” Webby pointed out. _

Dewey had tried to ignore it then, but he couldn’t now. It was true that the whole reason for any of this was because of their Mom taking The Spear of Selene, therefore leaving behind her family. Yet Dewey had a feeling that wasn’t the root of his brothers’ anguish anymore.

It wasn’t their absent mother they were mad at, but Dewey.  _ This is all my fault,  _ he realized sorrowfully, finally feeling the full impact of his actions now. Dewey hadn’t wanted to worry his brothers, but by keeping such a heavy secret from them he had only made matters worse.

A tumultuous crash snapped Dewey out of his thoughts. Then, in a blurry fit of slobber and sharp teeth the Demon Dog of Castle McDuck came rushing towards the triplets. They all screamed, terrified as they searched for a way out. 

The Demon Dog only continued to get closer and closer until they were able to make a run for it. Dewey didn’t even realize that there were two other passages to run down, as he was currently seeing everything through tunnel vision. 

The duckling in blue just kept on running, fully aware that he would have to save himself. In those first few tense moments, Dewey didn’t even realize that the Demon Dog wasn’t behind him, or that he’d been separated from his brothers.

Dewey paused, catching his breath. He listened closely, recognizing the frantic shrieks of Huey and Louie. He could discern the vicious barking of the Demon Dog as well.

_ That beast is going after them!  _ He felt an odd lurch in his chest at the revelation. 

“Huey! Louie!” he cried, sprinting through the corridors of the dungeon once more. “Where are you? Say something!”

Unfortunately, Dewey’s efforts were to no avail. He could still hear his brothers screaming, and the Demon Dog, who was definitely pursuing them.

It was at this moment, as he desperately tried to track down their location, that Dewey began to hate himself even more. Huey and Louie were his brothers. They meant the world to him, even more so than Della. And yet he’d lied to both in favor of the one who’d abandoned them all.

So Dewey couldn’t afford to lose them.

“Guys!” he tried again, unwilling to give up. Dewey focused hard, feeling urgency tug at his body, and trying to guess how close or far away he was from reaching Huey and Louie.

But then something happened that opened up a deep pit within his stomach.  _ Silence _ . 

Dewey could practically feel his anxious heartbeats slamming against his ribs as he proceeded forward. He kept on jogging for a few minutes, calling out his brother's names, although the sudden stillness was unnerving.

As he turned the next corner, he saw what looked like a black hole, or more accurately, square, at the end of the corridor. Almost as if the world ended right in that spot. One wrong step and you’d fall off the face of the earth.

Upon closer inspection, Dewey realized that the darkness at the end of the hall wasn't a hole, but some kind of shadow. 

_ Wait. . . but the shadow is. . . breathing.  _ With a jolt, Dewey finally understood. He was standing only a few paces away from the Demon Dog of Castle McDuck!

The devilish creature was sleeping and actually looked quite peaceful. All of this seemed rather ominous, and Dewey wondered how Huey and Louie had escaped.

Not wanting to be around the Demon Dog for any longer, Dewey carefully crept away, making as little noise as possible, which was an incredibly hard feat for him personally. 

Later on, Dewey almost tripped over a random lump in the middle of the pathway.

“Ow! What was th-” he began to say, then realized what had inconvenienced him. Before he could realize what he was doing, Dewey fell to his knees. 

With a shaky hand he picked up Huey’s Junior Woodchuck Guidebook. There was no way his eldest brother would willingly leave behind his most prized possession. “N-n-n-no no no no,” Dewey murmured to himself, as if repeating the word would change the facts.

Dewey choked when he noticed what accompanied the JWG. A few ripped off pieces of a green sweatshirt. The mementos were the only proof his brothers had been here, and Dewey had a feeling they hadn’t gotten much farther.

“What do you mean they didn’t make it out?” Uncle Scrooge cried, flabbergasted. 

Dewey stared up at his Uncle with wide eyes, clutching what was left of Huey and Louie for dear life. “The Demon Dog got to them before I did,” he whispered.

Webby had been standing off to the side, absolutely overcome with joy, and was finally broken out of her stupor. “You mean they’re. . .,” she trailed off.

Scrooge watched his honorary niece with blank eyes. “What were you lads doing down there anyway?”

Dewey took a deep breath, accepting that today was the day to unload all of his secrets. “We- we were looking for information about The Spear of Selene. At least I was, Huey and Louie didn’t know about that exact part. Now they do. . . did.”

Scrooge was utterly shocked, and said nothing for a few moments. “How did you- No, never mind that. We’ve got to go back down and look for Huey and Louie.”

And so they did. Scrooge, along with his parents, Launchpad, Dewey, and Webby retraced the triplets’ steps, critically searching for any signs that they could still be alive. Dewey only felt his hope fading farther and farther away.

This whole shabackle was only cementing what he already knew to be true. “My brothers aren’t here. Let’s go home,” he told the others, his voice monotone and his shoulders drooping.

The four ducks, which had been six only a few hours prior, road back to the mansion in silence. Webby tried to hide her tears, wanting to be of some comfort to Dewey. She wondered how his Uncle Donald would react.

Dewey, on the other hand, had locked himself away in a sort of catatonic state, imprisoned in his own grief. Dewey couldn’t change the past, couldn’t save Huey and Louie from their cruel fates. In a way, he’d been the one to bring it upon them.

But perhaps there was one detail that made the tragedy even harder to bear. His brother’s had died knowing he was a liar. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! I finally finished this chapter! Sorry it took me so long.  
> And how bout' that Halloween episode? I thought it was really cute. :) 
> 
> I hope you enjoy --

Dewey sat alone in the dark room. Silence encompassed the space as he stared at nothing in particular. 

It had been three days. 

_Three_ _days_. Three days since he’d lost the other halves of his soul. Three brothers. Everything was better in threes, as Huey would probably say. 

Was Dewey even a triplet anymore, if they weren’t there? Did he even deserve it?

Dewey felt as though he’d been gutted of all feelings, yet he also couldn’t remember a time he had ever felt so emotional. 

The mansion was so quiet, Dewey could hear his own ragged breaths. He could hear whenever someone moved, which wasn’t often.

It was as if the entire Duck family was frozen in their own grief. Paralyzed in the horror of losing even more of their own. 

Donald seemed to be hit hardest. He constantly looked as though everything inside of him had shattered. Donald had never wanted anything more than to protect the triplets; and his babies had faced their darkest moment alone, with no Uncle, and no family to save them.

Donald hadn’t even been there. . . he’d been lied to. Scrooge hadn’t even done his nephew the service of telling him where they were going.

And Huey and Louie had never returned.

Dewey could relate to his Uncle Scrooge in that way. He too would remain a liar in the eyes of his family. He couldn’t change Huey and Louie’s minds now, couldn’t apologize. The dead don’t talk.

Guilty. Dewey felt guilty. Everything had been his fault. In his clouded, grieving mind, every single event of the torturous day was somehow his fault. 

He hadn’t been there when his brothers needed him most. He’d lead them down into the dungeon, in pursuit of a secret he continued to lie to them about. A secret they had deserved to know.

Dewey found himself feeling even more guilty whenever his Uncle Donald came by and wanted to comfort him - to remind his remaining nephew that he wasn’t alone.

Yet Dewey had turned him away.

He turned Webby away, too. It was as if his twisted conscience didn’t want him to take any steps to heal, and instead to only wallow in his pain forevermore. 

So, as it was now, Dewey continued to isolate himself, sitting alone in their room. His room. He sat curled up in warm blankets, still clutching Huey and Louie’s belongings close to his chest.

From where Dewey sat in the middle bunk, he could see the full moon shining brightly. As a tear slipped from his eye, Dewey remembered the song Uncle Donald used to sing when they were little. . . a song their Mom had written for them. 

Taking a deep, sniffling breath, Dewey began to quietly sing the song to himself.

_ “Look to the stars my darling baby boys _

_ Life is strange and vast _

_ Filled with wonders and joys _

_ Face each new sun with eyes clear and true _

_ Unafraid of the unknown _

_ Because I’ll face it all with you.” _

After he finished the song, Dewey broke down crying. Usually singing his mother’s song filled him with reassurance, but this time it put him at the lowest point he’d ever felt. 

Maybe it was because after they’d ‘grown out’ of needing the bedtime song, Huey, Dewey, and Louie still occasionally sang it together.

And perhaps that was just it. Together, when they’d needed it most. But now Dewey did it alone.

A poisonous anger began to overtake Dewey, joining his guilt in a storm of grief. 

“You left me,” he said to the moon. “And now they’ve left me too.” Dewey had wanted to scream, but it had come out in a cracked whisper instead.

All of this had begun because Dewey had wanted to find his lost mother, but by the end he’d lost both of his brothers alongside her.

They were all gone because of him. . . Dewey truly believed that. And if he stayed here in the mansion, he would only serve as a cruel reminder to the rest of his family. 

_ Look at me!  _ Dewey thought sadly, loathing himself.  _ I’m Dewey Duck! I wanted nothing more than to be the center of attention, and now look where that got me. There’s no one else here anymore. You just get me, like I’ve always wanted.  _

_ But don’t worry, I won’t be around for much longer. I’m leaving too.  _

Dewey hopped down from his bed for the first time in what felt like days. He hastily packed a bag. Planning wasn’t really his strong suit, so he didn’t really pack any essentials. That was for future Dewey to deal with. 

To Dewey, the only must-haves were the remnants of his brothers. He packed the tattered strips of Louie’s sweatshirt, along with Huey’s guidebook. Dewey even searched through the closet, finding extra pairs of Huey’s hat and Louie’s trademark green sweatshirt, unscathed this time. 

Just before Dewey left the room, left behind everything he’d once had, in a way - Dewey spotted a wide, golden-plated book underneath their desk. The shininess caught the blue ducklings attention, as he’d never seen the thing before. 

Pattering softly across the room, as not to wake anyone, Dewey picked up the gilded book. He wiped some dust off of the cover, deducing that it hadn’t been used in a while.

Dewey’s heart suddenly lurched as he realized what it was. In scratchy letters, the words  _ Photo Album  _ were written across the middle. His Uncle Donald had made it years back, as Dewey recalled.

And here it was. Untouched and unaffected by the world around it. The book didn’t change what would inevitably occur, but instead had captured life as it was then, in the moment.

This prospect brought Dewey some comfort, so he shoved the old photo album into his bag. After that, he left the mansion without a word.

Dewey wanted to cry, but forced the tears away. He was cold, lonely, and miserable. The grayish-blue sky above had decided to do the weeping for him.

Dewey was far out of Duckburg now, and had found himself in a glorious new destination - an abandoned park.

He sat curled up on a rickety bench, cloaked in Louie’s sweatshirt and with his legs pulled close to him. A large pine was the only thing shielding him from the onslaught of rain.

Dewey still had no idea what to do next. He had had only one thought on his mind the previous two days; run. 

He hadn’t dwelled on the potential pain he had caused the family he’d left behind. Nor had he even thought of Huey and Louie, choosing to block them from his mind for the time being.

It seemed Dewey had been running away mentally, too. And now, as he sat here left with nothing but his thoughts, Dewey decided to pull out Uncle Donald’s old photo album.

Luckily its pages were laminated, because the rain had begun to blow at an angle. Dewey sharply took in a breath, not realizing how unprepared he was for the first picture. 

They were all there. Uncle Donald held three identical, color-coded bundles in his arms, his eyes shining with unconditional love. The triplet ducklings were laughing joyfully. Warmth seemed to blossom between the Uncle and his nephews, despite the blizzard that seemed to be flurrying outside of the houseboat.

Dewey let out a choking sob, glancing up at the thundering clouds, which only depressed him even more. Yet he still felt an urge to continue, for Huey and Louie’s sake. 

Next was a picture of the three brothers piled into a kayak. It must’ve been their first time, since an almost unnecessary amount of supplies (surely courteous of Uncle Donald) were included.

Then, it was Huey, Dewey, and Louie’s first day of school. They all wore toothy grins and matching hats, which Huey had obviously been the only one to keep. It was odd, knowing that the young ducklings in the photo weren’t aware of what awaited them in the future.

Dewey continued flipping through the pages, feeling bittersweet. 

He and his brothers’ first Halloween. Their biggest adventure.

A chaotic sunset picnic on the beach.

The misadventures of a joined bubble bath.

Their 9th birthday party at Funso’s. Which had meant the world to them, since they’d never before been able to have such a big event. 

The time they’d created a war involving a pillow fort and a blanket fort. It had been extremely claustrophobic and haywire in such a small place as the houseboat. Soldiers had surrendered, betrayals had been made.

When Huey, Dewey, and Louie joined the soccer team. 

Christmas morning! The jolliness in their expressions almost seemed unmatched by any other picture as the family enjoyed each other’s company around the tree.

Their first road trip. The three of them had been crammed into the back of the car, in between all of the excessive baggage.

The triplets standing against the wall, still remaining the exact same height.

A picture of them in their vibrant pajamas, all cuddled together and sleeping peacefully, having previously been tucked in by their Uncle Donald. 

Dewey remembered that night. It had only been a few weeks before they’d met Uncle Scrooge. (So his Uncle must’ve been using adding to the photo album more recently than Dewey thought.)

Huey, Dewey, and Louie had had a huge fight earlier that day, but they’d made up. Dewey desperately wished they could’ve made up now. He wished Uncle Donald would tuck them all in, because he always somehow managed to make everything alright in their small little world. 

Dewey hastily closed the book, no longer wanting to look into Huey and Louie’s smiling faces. He had never considered what an interesting revelation photos were. They were like time capsules, forever preserving those inside them even after they were long gone. 

Sighing, Dewey began to list what he had left of his brothers. The golden book was one of them, and perhaps the most meaningful of all. 

Huey and Louie were gone, but in these pictures, they lived. 

Then it really set in.

Even though his brothers were immortalized in the photographs, Dewey finally realized they weren’t coming back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story, and especially this chapter was inspired by the song "Photograph" by Ringo Starr. Give it a listen if you want. C;
> 
> \--
> 
> "Now you're expecting me to live without you  
> But that's not something that I'm looking forward to
> 
> I can't get used to living here  
> While my heart is broke, my tears I cry for you  
> I want you here to have and hold  
> As the years go by, and we grow old and gray
> 
> Every time I see your face  
> It reminds me of the places we used to go  
> But all I've got is a photograph  
> And I realize you're not coming back anymore
> 
> Every time I see your face  
> It reminds me of the places we used to go  
> But all I've got is a photograph"


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! The final chapter, I hope you enjoy!  
> Once again, this work is based off of the song "Photograph" by Ringo Starr.

Donald Duck was a shell of himself. He had lost almost everyone he loved, time and time again.

Della, his sister, had once been the most important person in his life. They were connected in such a way only twins could be, and Donald had loved her more than anything in the world.

And then she left.

However, she’d left behind three little parts of her. Donald’s nephews. The triplet’s became his world, his new most important, most loved thing. He hadn’t thought it was possible to love someone, or three someones, more than his sister. But it was.

They’d left too. Huey and Louie, viciously taken away from their family, from their Uncle Donald. Their lives had been cut far too short. It was unfair.

Yet Dewey was still there, still with them. Still alive, but not happy. Dewey had left not long after his brothers, and Donald had never stopped searching. No. Nothing would stop him from pursuing that last one he loved the most.

So, you could imagine his utter surprise when the sister he’d lost and used to love so much, appeared at the front door one day. 

It had been a normal, gray morning. He’d heard a knock, and answered it. It felt like he hadn’t spoken a word in months, but now Donald was truly speechless. 

The brother and sister stared at each other for a moment. Their gazes reflected varied emotions; joy, despair, confusion, disbelief, shock and jubilation.

The whirlpool of feelings cultivated as Della pulled Donald into a hug. “I’m back, I’m back,” she murmured.

Donald still said nothing. He was amazed that his sister was actually standing in front of him. His emotions were warring for dominance inside of him. Eventually, it was joy that won. 

But before Donald could get a word in to his beloved long-lost sister, a harsh voice cut in from behind him. 

“Della,” said Scrooge, his expression dangerous. “Where were you?”

“The moon!” Della exclaimed, looking as though she were ready to hug Scrooge, too. Scrooge, however, was clearly in no mood for affection.

As soon as Dewey had run away, Scrooge had given up; succumbed to the darkness of his mind. He caved into his insecurities, and believed it had been his fault alone for Della’s disappearance. 

And now he’d lost her children.  _ All  _ of her children.

What kind of Uncle did that make him? 

Donald had been so consumed in his own grief that he hadn’t even felt angry at his Uncle, as he had been so passionately ten years ago. 

“Happy to see you, lass. Happy to see you,” Scrooge said under his breath, seeming quite the opposite of happy.

Della’s smile faltered as she took a backwards step away from her Uncle. “Wh-what’s wrong, Uncle Scrooge?”

“I should’ve never built you that rocket. And look at you now! Back to rub it in, aren’t ya?” Scrooge had a somewhat crazed look in his glassy eyes now.

“No, no, it was all my fault,” Della mumbled as tears began to fall down her cheeks. “I never should have stepped foot on that rocket. I’ve missed you all so much!”

Donald gulped, unsure of what to say. Perhaps he should’ve predicted that Scrooge would be unstable. 

Instead of intervening, Donald realized Webby was there. She was hidden in the shadows, watching the scene with wide eyes.

Donald felt incredibly bad for the little duckling, all alone again in the mansion. Surely Huey, Dewey, and Louie had felt like brothers to her. And now, she had reverted back to her old life of isolation.

And while he yearned to comfort her, Donald knew it would only be on false hope. It seemed as though they would all wallow in their own grief forever. 

But now Della was back. Maybe she would alter their doomed equation. 

Donald focused on the reality playing in front of him, although he didn’t enjoy it in the slightest. Della was nervously glancing all around the room. “Where are my boys?” she asked softly.

Scrooge let out an insane cackle. “Where are they? Dead!”

Della fell to the ground immediately, her whole body shaking. “What?” she sobbed.

“That’s right! Two dead! One ran away! Gone! I couldn’t save them! I couldn’t save you! Tell me Della, what good am I?” Scrooge screamed. 

After his outburst, Webby came out from her hiding. Approaching the duck ever so cautiously, she said, “Now Uncle Scroo-, I mean Mr. Scrooge, I think you need to calm down and go to your office. Please.”

Scrooge snapped back to look at Webby. He sighed, which seemed oddly normal compared to the crazed maniac seconds ago. 

“Yes, fine,” Scrooge said, following Webby out of the room.

Della was shaking violently now, and Donald ran to her. He pulled his sister into his arms.

“My boys. They’re-they’re,” Della was crying, clutching Donald closer to her. 

“I love you Della,” was all Donald could think to say. He realized it was the first words he’d said to her since her return. “We have each other now.”

They embraced in silence for a long while. Della was the one who finally broke it, her tears somewhat subdued. 

“I didn’t expect. . .,” her words trailed off.

Donald shook his head sadly. Part of him wondered why he wasn’t angry, like Scrooge. Perhaps he just couldn’t bring himself to feel like that. “I tried my best to take care of them, Della.”

“Thank you,” Della whispered. 

Donald smiled. It was the first time he had done so in months. “Dewey’s still out there. And we’re going to find him.”

The duckling turned from the top of the ridge, facing the grand Castle McDuck. He wore a tattered green sweatshirt and a wary expression.

He still couldn't believe he was free, that he was standing here. He had been trapped in the supernatural for far too long. He didn’t even know how much time had passed.

All he could think of now, as he took in the stone castle for one last time, was the day he’d entered it. 

He remembered running from a shadowy creature. He remembered feeling the most fearful he ever had.

And then he’d hit a dead end. It had seemed like it was over, and in many ways it still had been. The brutish demon stood over the duckling, ready to devour him.

The story would’ve ended that way had his brother not been there instead. The duckling dressed in red had flung in front and shielded the other, sacrificing himself so the younger could run.

The little duckling didn’t stop running, although he had wanted to break down. He could not have let his brother’s death be in vain.

So, he had never stopped fighting to escape the horrific Castle McDuck. The hard work, which he once would’ve been unaccustomed to, had paid off. 

Taking in a deep breath of fresh air, he turned away from the castle and instead faced the plains stretching out in front of him. The wind seemed to happily whip at his bedraggled form.

He was out at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you go. . . Hopefully that was enjoyable to read!   
> I really like how "human" Della is. She's made many mistakes, like all of us, yet shows true courage in the face of adversity and is always striving to be a strong and good person. In this story I made it so her return had a more salty reception then in the show.
> 
> It was really interesting to write the different aspects of this work. Thank you for reading, I really appreciate it! :)


End file.
